


Drunken confessions to the cat that looks like your best friend

by ProdigyBlood



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Feels, Crowley is a sad boy, Drunken rambles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Wine, angel turned into cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 10:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19665628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProdigyBlood/pseuds/ProdigyBlood
Summary: ' “Ssss’not sssso bad,” Crowley told the cat, petting his head sloppily. He was still lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Aziraphale wasn’t sure when he’d taken off his glasses. “Wouldn’t have met him if I hadn’t fell…”Oh, and if that didn’t pull at the heartstrings.“Sssss’not enough,” Crowley was saying. “Thought it was. Thought it didn’t matter. Can’t handle it, though. It’ssssss killing me.” 'Crowley gets drunk and confesses his feelings to a cat. Problem is, he doesn't realise that the cat is actually Aziraphale.





	Drunken confessions to the cat that looks like your best friend

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this quickly, with every intention of it being a cute, fluffy, funny fic.  
> ...That didn't happen. Apparently, this fic had its own mind.  
> Crowley is a troubled bean :(

“You know, you only have yourself to blame for this,” Gabriel said pleasantly, patting a bit of lint off his jacket. “Besides, as punishments go, this is mild. You’ll be back to yourself in a couple of weeks. A month tops. No harm no foul, really.” 

On first inspection, it seemed as if the archangel was talking to himself. If someone were to peer into the book shop, they would not see another living person between the muddle of haphazardly placed, old books. Then, however, if they looked down, they might spot the cat. 

It was white and a little plump, with large blue eyes that seemed to penetrate into Gabriel’s very soul, trying to turn his brain to mush. He seemed unfazed as if cats often tried such things. And let them! It wasn’t as though he had a brain, anyway. Not in the literal sense, not right now. None of this body was real, it was just a vessel to hold him while he dolled out much-needed punishment. 

The cat meowed. 

“Now, really, Aziraphale. There’s no need for _language_ like that.” He shook his head at the cat as if he was very disappointed in it. “Right. I must dash. I’m very important, you know. Like I said, couple of weeks. Maybe a couple of months. No more than a year, anyway. You never know, you might enjoy being a cat. Maybe you’ll even lose that gut you’ve been carrying around, hey?” 

With that, the archangel vanished, leaving the bookshop empty save for one very angry cat. 

Aziraphale hissed at the empty space he’d been standing, wishing he’d been brave enough to try out his new claws on the idiot. 

For a while he just sat, staring around the bookshop that suddenly appeared so much larger. The idea of moving wasn’t entirely appealing; he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to try out his paws. Four legs seemed like an awful lot of legs when you stopped to think about it. While he sat, he tried to miracle himself back into human form. He wasn’t much surprised that it didn’t work. This was a punishment, after all. Heaven had found out about one of the demonic miracles he’d performed to help Crowley out. He wasn’t sure who’s idea it had been to punish him by transforming him into a cat but he was certain they were all laughing about it now, up in Heaven. 

Well, they really were a bunch of bas- bad angels! 

What was he meant to do as a cat? There wasn’t even a window cracked in the bookshop so he was stuck here for the foreseeable future. 

At least he could still read. If he could figure out a way to access the books crammed in the shelves, he could quite happily will away the hours. He didn’t have any thumbs, though. How was he meant to turn the pages even if he _did_ miraculously – 

Miracles! Of course! 

Focusing his attention on a nearby book, Aziraphale tried to will it before him. It shifted slightly on the shelf, its spine poking out just a tiny bit – a smidgeon if you like – but that was it. Aziraphale was a fraction of his former height and, it seemed, had a fraction of his former powers, too. 

Basically, he was useless. 

Great. This was going to be a wonderful… however long. Gabriel being so unspecific had been… irritating to say the least. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he could handle being a cat for the next year. Maybe it would be best to bite the bullet, discorporate himself and face the paperwork – 

“Angel?” 

The bookshop door, which had most definitely been locked, creaked open and a familiar head of stylish red hair poked its way around it. 

Aziraphale finally tried getting to his fe- _paws_. He wobbled and meowed as the door shut behind the demon. 

“Angel, you in?” 

Aziraphale meowed again, more urgently this time. Lord, what he’d give to be able to use words. However did cats manage? 

Crowley looked sceptically at Aziraphale, shivering a little. “Don’t like cats,” he mumbled under his breath. Aziraphale remembered then that his demon friend was a snake and cats generally liked to hunt and kill snakes. It was silly, really, the angel thought. Why would Crowley be afraid of him when he could quite easily swallow Aziraphale whole? 

Oh, golly. That thought did something weird to him. 

He meowed again. Uncertain this time. 

Crowley hesitated and then took a small step closer. “Where’d you come from, then? Didn’t know Zira was interested in pets.” 

Aziraphale meowed again. This was useless, it would get him nowhere. 

“You look a bit like him, you know,” the demon said thoughtfully. 

_That’s because I am!_

Aziraphale tried a new approach. On shaky legs, he approached the demon, nudging his long legs with his head. Crowley really did wear ridiculously tight trousers. 

The demon tried to nudge him away but Aziraphale was having none of it. He headbutted his leg again, finding the contact between his ears surprisingly nice. A small purr escaped him without his permission. 

Crowley stood still as a statue, like he might vanish into thin air if he could just be still enough. If he hoped the little cat who looked a lot like his absent friend would get the hint and leave him alone he was sourly disappointed. Aziraphale was nothing if not persistent. 

He sighed. “Where’s the angel, then? Gone out for food, I assume.” 

Aziraphale made a noise of protest. The demon looked down at him, tilting his head. Finally, he crouched, reaching out to hesitantly pat between his ears. 

_Oh my_. Aziraphale purred again. 

“You like that, huh?” There was a softness to the demon’s voice. He continued to pet the white fluff between the cat’s ears. “I guess I can see why my angel likes you. You’re not so bad.” 

_I_ am _your angel,_ Aziraphale mentally screamed. Then – **my** _angel?!_

“Come on, kitty. Let’s raid his wine stash while we wait for him.” 

Aziraphale meowed in disapproval and Crowley laughed. “You’re just like him,” he said. Aziraphale-the-cat’s protests did nothing to stop him as he hunted until he found a bottle of Château chevalier blanc 2010. 

How the hell did his claws work? That was two thousand pounds worth of wine right there! Aziraphale would be damned if he – 

Crowley popped open the bottle and took a swig, not even bothering to find a wine glass. He burped. “Ah, that’s good shit.” 

Aziraphale hissed. 

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” the demon asked. “I can always miracle up another one for him. Besides, it’s the angel’s fault for not being here, isn’t it?” 

An hour later and Crowley was most terribly drunk. Whatever aversion he’d had to Aziraphale-the-cat had vanished half way through bottle number one and the cat had found himself being scooped up and sloppily plonked onto the demons bony lap. It hadn’t seemed very proper, all things considered, and he’d tried to escape. Crowley had seemed very reluctant to release him, however, and eventually, Aziraphale had to admit that the attention was rather nice and, actually, being in Crowley’s lap wasn’t all that bad. As surprisingly gentle (the demon was very drunk after all) fingers started scratching his ears, Aziraphale gave up on any attempt to escape and just went with it, purring like there was no tomorrow. 

“Y’know what elsssssse?” The demon had been talking for quite a while but Aziraphale hadn’t really been listening. He was enjoying the feeling of Crowley’s fingers through his fur too much. Being a cat wasn’t too bad, he realised, so long as you had the right person by your side. 

“-Sssssix thoussssssand yearsss,” he hissed. Crowley tended to hiss quite a lot when he was drunk, Aziraphale had always found it quite endearing, really. “Ssssix thoussssand yearsss and he hasssn’t got a clue. Talk about being obfl-obli- oblivious! _Aha_!” 

Aziraphale’s ears perked a little at Crowley’s triumphant cry. What was he talking about? 

“Where issss he anywayssss?” Crowley tried to stand, one hand cradling the cat to his chest, but only succeeded on falling flat on his back. “Azzzzziraphale?” he called out hopelessly. “Azzzira- Azzzirap-!” 

The cat meowed and gently swatted at his nose. _I’m here, my dear_ he wanted to communicate. _I’m right here._

“I’m all alone, kitty,” Crowley said sadly. “Ssssupposssse it’sss all I desssserve.” 

_Oh, Crowley._ Aziraphale nudged his head against the demon’s cheek. He was heartbroken to discover it was damp. 

“Didn’t want to fall, y’know,” Crowley mumbled, almost incoherently. “Didn’t assssk for any of it. An’ you know what? It hurt. It fuckin’ hurt, fallin’.” 

Aziraphale wished he was human. Wished he could hold the demon in his arms and say soothing words. Wished, he realised with surprise, that he could kiss away his tears. He did the best he could, licking softly at the demons face instead. He needed Crowley to know, to _understand._ He wasn’t alone. He would never be alone again. 

“Ssss’not sssso bad,” Crowley told the cat, petting his head sloppily. He was still lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Aziraphale wasn’t sure when he’d taken off his glasses. “Wouldn’t have met him if I hadn’t fell…” 

Oh, and if that didn’t pull at the heartstrings. 

“Sssss’not enough,” Crowley was saying. “Thought it was. Thought it didn’t matter. Can’t handle it, though. It’ssssss killing me.” 

It was so personal, so _wrong,_ listening to Crowley confess his inner deepest, darkest feelings to what he thought was an ordinary cat. Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to stop, though. Drunk or not, Crowley would never say any of this to him if he knew who he was talking too. Crowley pretended to be so cool, so indifferent. Aziraphale hadn’t realised just how much the demon was suffering. 

“I love him,” Crowley sobbed. “Demons aren’t ssssssupposed to love but I love _him_.” 

This was too much. This was too painful, too private. Aziraphale couldn’t listen. Not any more. He couldn’t intrude on this personal moment. He’d longed to hear those words, longed to know his own feelings were reciprocated (never believed they could be) but not like this – not… 

“Don’t leave me too,” Crowley mumbled as the cat tried to escape. Aziraphale froze. What was he meant to do? What was the right thing to do in this situation? It was an impossible situation. He couldn’t leave Crowley alone, not like this. But he was also certain the demon would be both horrified and angry if he knew the truth.

Eventually, the angel decided that it would be a secret he would happily carry to the end of time if it meant being there as best he could for Crowley right now. So he stayed, curling up high on the demon’s chest, tucked in under his chin until finally the demon stopped sobbing and drifted into a fitful sleep. 

Aziraphale himself didn’t usually sleep, but he was a cat. What else was he going to do? Besides, it was lovely and warm on Crowley’s chest and he’d never felt safer. It didn’t take long at all for him to drift off. 

If anyone peered into the bookshop then, they would have seen what was a rather adorable sight. Demon and cat curled up together, sleeping softly. If one ignored the empty wine bottles around them it was rather heartwarming. 

When Aziraphale woke, hours later, Crowley was gone. A bowl had been left on the floor, full of rich, fatty tuna flakes. Crowley really was a softy. If Aziraphale could have smiled well... he would have.

It took three weeks for Aziraphale to return to his human form. He didn’t see Crowley again in that duration. He spent most of the time worrying about the demon and talking himself into something he should have done a long time ago. 

When he gained his human legs once more he discovered he’d quite forgotten how to walk on just the two. He’d wanted to go straight to Crowley’s flat but he ended up having to stumble around the bookshop for a good hour first until he felt confident enough to venture out into the busy streets of London. With Crowley’s empty wine bottles still dotted around on the floor, one would have been forgiven in assuming the angel was quite drunk had they have peered through the gap in the blinds. 

Crowley didn’t answer the door but Aziraphale wasn’t deterred. He found his own way inside the cold, grey flat. 

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him he could hear Crowley yelling. The angel followed his voice to find Crowley facing a row of beautiful plants, a mister in hand. The plants trembled in fear as the demon hurled abuse at them. 

Aziraphale waited for Crowley to pause before he spoke. “You really should speak to them better, my dear.” 

Crowley spun around so quickly he almost stumbled. “Angel! Where the fuck have you been?” 

“Whatever do you mean?” the angel asked innocently. 

“Went to your bookshop, didn’t I? It was closed.” 

“I’m often closed,” Aziraphale pointed out. He was trying to discreetly get a read on Crowley. The demon didn’t look any different than usual but after his broken, drunken confessions, there was no telling what was lurking under his tough exterior. 

“Met your cat.” Ah. Ah, yes, he hadn’t considered that but Aziraphale was going to have to get a cat now. One that looked exactly the same as he had. That could prove… tricky. 

“Ah, yes, um… yes.” 

Crowley gave him a lingering look. “What are you going here, angel? Only I’m a little busy.” 

“Terrorising your plants, so I see.” 

“Not _terrorising_ ,” Crowley grumbled under his breath. Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile at the childish protest. 

“Look, the matter at hand is that I was rather thinking.” It was amazing what spending three weeks as a cat had done to him. Before, he would never even of dreamt about having this conversation. It was wrong enough for them to be friends, he’d felt. Feelings didn’t matter. Feelings could be ignored. Now though, he understood better than before. Now it wasn’t only his own heart that he was crushing. 

“My dear,” he said, “I think we should go on a date.” 

Crowley dropped the plant mister. It landed with a thud, splashing a trail of water over the floor. Aziraphale miracle it away without even thinking about it. 

“When you really think about it,” Aziraphale continued. “We’ve been on plenty before. I think it’s time we stop pretending they are anything other than what they actually are, don’t you?” 

Crowley didn’t answer, although his mouth was moving as if he were speaking. His glasses had slid down his nose, revealing wide serpentine eyes. 

“My dear, are you quite alright?” As soon as he said it, he wondered whether it was a stupid question. From witnessing Crowley ‘alone’ while drunk, it was clear that the demon _wasn’t_ alright. He was torn up inside about a lot of things. The very least Aziraphale could do was to take one from his shoulders.

“I… Er… You- You know what a _date_ is, right…?” 

Aziraphale laughed. “Of course, dear. You don’t want to go on one?” 

“I didn’t sssay that!” Crowley protested, too quickly. 

“Excellent! I’ll pick you up tonight, then. Seven sharp.” 

“…You’ll pick me up?” It barely came out as more than a whisper but even though Aziraphale had already turned to leave, he still heard it. He didn’t turn around but he let a smile form on his lips. It was certainly a start. And they had plenty of time – and patience on Aziraphale side – to work out the rest of the stuff. For now, the angel just wanted to make sure the demon knew he was loved unconditionally despite his fall to darkness. That being a demon and a bad person weren’t mutually exclusive, at least not when Crowley was involved. That Aziraphale loved him back and had for a rather long time now… 

As he left the building, Aziraphale realised he had eight hours to find a cat. 

How hard could it be, really…?


End file.
